


Drop C Tuning

by GlassSolomon



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Brief emetophobia trigger I tagged it in the fic itself, Fatherly Nathan, Gen, M/M, No Smut, OCD, OCD Skwisgaar, Pre Doomstar, Slight mother hen Pickles, Sort of established relationship already, Toki and William bromance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassSolomon/pseuds/GlassSolomon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feeling fed up with Skwisgaar attitude, and constant denial of guitar solos Toki Wartooth decides he wants to teach Skwisgaar a lesson. With the help of William Murderface they develop a plan. Unbeknownst to them, however is how tightly wound Skwisgaar is about some things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drop C Tuning

**Author's Note:**

> +=This fic is for Nurse Helena as a part of the "Exchange-a-rooni" fic exchange. Within the text there are a few instances where tensions rise just a bit, I will tag them before and then signify when it's over. Thanks so much for reading! Love you Nurse Helena.=+

_Fucking Skwisgaar._

 

Three P.M had rolled around and Toki Wartooth was already fuming, and this was -in the minds of those who inhabited Mordaus- early as hell -even to be throwing a tantrum-. It was even an early start for the eternally get-up-and-go Toki Wartooth, whose antics usually didn't begin until enough sugar-free pudding pumped through his blood stream and also after one or two forbidden hershey kisses were smuggled under his tongue, mimicking the musings of a relapsing drug addict.No, today there was another catalyst- a certain blonde haired Swede who had less than gently refused Toki the guitar solo Toki so desperately had wanted and begged his band-mate for.

 

"Fucks him!"

 

The Norge' thundered through the halls of the shared home, there was a large vein swelled on the back of his neck and his jaw was sore from grinding his teeth, an awful habit of his when he was angry. When Toki was fighting with Skwisgaar his first action was usually to seek out a listening ear-merely for the strangest need of his to bad-mouth and gossip about Skwisgaar like a prepubescent girl. It was because of this that Toki strategically chose to take the long route to his room so he could make an extra loud ruckus outside of Pickles' room and then outside of William's as well along the way to perhaps fish them out of their rooms.

 

Now, Toki had been told a thousands times over not to bother Pickles before he was ready to wake up. Toki had even been punched in ribs on one instance when he'd tried to wake Pickles up far too enthusiastically one Christmas morning. This didn't stop Toki from craving the man's attention. When Pickles wasn't grumpyor tired he always let Toki come into his room and complain, Pickles even let Toki mess with some of his drum-sticks while he spoke. Even if Pickles didn't listen to every one of Toki's words the man still sympathized with Toki and even offered pieces of advice and this was more than enough.

 

Yes, Toki would try to wake Pickles without directly _'trying'._  

 

 Toki's boot 'accidentally' scuffed against the woodwork beside the drummer's door as he passed and then he stopped mid-stride to see if he could hear any shuffling in the room. Hearing nothing, Toki choseto release an exasperated sigh, one that was more of an awkwardly out-spoken "Huuuuhhhhhm." Toki's child-like -and perhaps- disabled sense of reasoning lead him to believe that if the drummer was awake he would some-how pick up on the sounds of Toki's annoyed state, and perhaps come out to check on him. 

 

The precious little pout he already dawned puckered further, exaggerating his pout into an ugly sort of pained grimace 

 

Whena moment passed and another conveniently accidental boot-scuff had met the woodwork- no red-headed drummer opened the door like Toki had hoped for.

 

"Probablies sleepins-"

 

 Though Toki craved Pickles' attention and his lips burned to spout fourth oceans of all Skwisgaar had done to wrong him ( As though he were telling on him. ), Toki was also far too intimidated to open the door and wake his band-mate, especially with a show they were to play this evening. Instead, Toki settled to groan and immediately make his way down the hall to William's room. 

 

Toki justified pounding on Williams door unlike the red headed fury next door Toki wasn't much afraid of Murderface, he was mostly harmless- and let Toki talk as much shit as he needed to, usually. 

 

 _"Whaat~?"_ Immediately after Toki had knocked a drawn that sound of frustration met Toki's ears, Toki then leaned forward to shout.

 

"Moidaface- lets me in." Toki jiggled the locked door-knob. "Please. I Needs to talk to yous."

 

There was a low almost expected groan. 

 

"God, fucking gimmie a sec." Murderface snipped back. A pissed off Murderface didn't frighten Toki, he was usually all bark and no bite anyway.

 

A few moment of silence passed before Toki could hear William shuffling around on the other side of the door, grumbling nonsense. Finally, Toki heard footsteps shuffle closer and Murderface opened the door. It was easy to tell that William had already been awake, he was fully dressed and Toki spotted the man’s laptop open on his bed, there was a small sheen of sweat on the other’s skin not entirely uncharacteristic of William Murderface. 

 

More than likely he’d _just_ been jacking off.

 

Murderface seemed akin to speak out in the hallway, he had himself perched in the doorway, blocking Toki from entering his room. Toki was having none of that, he pushed forward immediately, squeezing past Murderface with an ‘uhff.” produced from both parties. 

 

"Chrisht, Toki what the fuck do you want!?" Murderface asked as he slammed his door shut, he didn’t bother attempting to chase Toki out. William re-crossed his arms as he slumped down into one of his chairs, eventually removing a dagger he'd previously stuck through its leathered arm.

 

 _“Ams pissed off!”_ Toki was reeling, he’d already begun to pace back and fourthscuffing his boots on William’s tiled floors. “I ams so tireds of Skwisgaar and his—“ Toki balled his hands into a fist and “RAHHH”ed, punching Murderface’s mattress. William blinked, balancing his index finger on the hilt of the dagger.

 

“Am's always been goods to him, Is always does what he wants, Is makes him happy, always willings to-“ Toki paused mid-sentence glancing over at William. “Well, I always does things for him.” Toki felt censorship was best upon the tender ears of their _spirited_ bassist. “Well, ams tired of beings ins his shadow, ands I nevers asks fors much- buts todays when I asked hims nicely to gives mes the solos for tonights _jusssts_ ford tonights he turned me down flats! Didn't even thinks about it!" Toki's words got faster as he went along growing to become progressivelyexasperated, William seemed all the more disinterested in the other's problems as he stabbed the arm of his chair over and over again. “Then he laughed ats me and calleds me a dildo, afters everything-“

 

"Toki Toki Toki… I’m juscht gonna stop you _right there_.” Murderface drew out a sigh and closed his eyes. “While I can underschtand you wanting to come to _me_ for help, me being told by many that my psycho-therpistal advice isch the best.” His little aside was delivered ‘matter-of-factly, which was received by an open mouthed Toki who stared vacantly on. “ Schadly, I don't fucking care, Toki- ” Murderface opened his eyes and shrugged as though the explanation would suffice. 

 

Toki whimpered.

 

“Toki… Ok, itsch not like I could do anything about it-" William immediately cracked. “You and Skwisgaar fight every schingle day, over schtupid gay schit.” Murderface paused and scratched his head with his free hand. “Uh- no offensche.” Though such topics had never been discussed, William simply supposed _every_ European, Scandinavian… Ah… Canadiarian? Was gay. _“_ Plus… he’d never listchen to me even if I _wanted_ to help you.” Still feeling a bit harsh William timidly corrected himself. “Even if I wasch _able_ to help you.” Another pause. “God, and what do you want from him anyway?”

 

Toki's brow folded in thought at that, truthfully he didn't even really know what he wanted. Well, Toki _wanted_ the solo, but that obviously wasn't going to happen--- then what else did he want? _Justice? Revenge?_

 

"Whats I wants is to teach hims a lesson!" Toki shouted.“Shows him thats he needs to stops steppings on me-“

 

“God you’re giving me a headache.”

 

Toki shuffled around a bit nervously from his spot on the bed. Realizing that he wasn't about to win Murderface over in his efforts, Toki decided he'd need to spin the truth just a bit in his favor. Murderface would need to be convinced. "He calleds yous fats the other days you knows-" Toki's eyes met William's and immediately he saw the rage spread through his system like a virus.

 

"Fat." Murderface repeated, he was visibly disgruntled with sudden erect posture and eyes narrowed.

 

"Yeps." Toki nodded. "He also said you ams a pussy dumbs dildo licker bitch ugh—d-dogs face who ams gay and ah-" He paused to think, sifting through his limited vocabulary and ability to use obscenities. "And yous smells-" Pause. “Bad.” Another pause and then Toki felt the need to add- "Likes a farts-" Agiggle almost escaped his throat at that addition, but he caught himself with a balled up fist pressed to his mouth to pretend it was a cough. 

 

"That fucking asschhole! I fucking hate him and hisch high and mighty… That asschole fucking---" William Murderface was standing now, waving the dagger around as he began to pace. "No. No no. He’s the dildo dog fasce- no no no no." Murderface spun around to face the now beaming Toki. "Alright, Toki- letsch fucking teach him a lesschon, I have just the right idea too-"

 

"Oh wowee." 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later on into the evening when everyone was awake and fed and a brief setlist had been pulled out of their asses, the band had been herded away to their jet at Charles guidance. There was less chatter than usual as the boys prepared for the show, the usually chipper Toki had acted quiet and reserved for the rest of the day, avoiding Skwisgaar as opposed to his unhealthy clinging. Perhaps a keener eye, or maybe perhaps to people who _'cared'_ to notice these sorts of things--- would have felt the tension in the air.

 

"Fuck you Skwisgaar" Murderface fake coughed the phrase as he boarded the jet, walking by the blonde guitarist who currently found himself perched in a seat beside Nathan. How was that for tension?

 

"Yeah, fucks you-" to which Toki far too cheerfully repeated upon entering behind William, mistakingly coughing behind William, mistakingly coughing before and after the phrase, padding behind Murderface.

 

A low unscathed "Uahh…" Was all Skwisgaar afforded his offender a delayed few moments later, while Skwisgaar continued to play his guitar. Skwisgaar was literally so disinterested and unaffected by William's words that Skwisgaar had forgotten what the offense was the moment his rebuttal escaped his lips. 

 

William seemed proud of himself nonetheless, disillusion and believing he'd made a mark. The bassist was still beaming as he sat back in his own seat, crossing his leg over the other. The also beaming Toki soon followed behind, keen to copy everything William did that evening. Perhaps getting William to indulge Toki- even if only in a superficial way- enacted a childish need within Toki to mimic his temporary idol.

 

Nathan stared off slightly slack-jawed. Literally vacant with disinterest.

 

Pickles was curled up a few seats away, hand cupped over his stomach with a magazine over his face, napping.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The show had trudged along painfully, but Dethklok always delivered- and the fans that night were just as rabid as ever in their devoted mania to the band. Toki and Skwisgaar stood where they usually stood for concerts, threading together the image of professional "band-mates" though Toki seemed happy with never meeting Skwisgaar's gaze.

 

They played their music and many casualties ensued. Skwisgaar played his solo as planned, and he played it perfectly _as always_. Toki crossed his arms over his chest and he wore the angriest frown he could muster, not afraid to let anyone who looked at him know he was visibly upset with the other. 

 

Now, the typical fashion with Dethklok concerts, - _well any concert really-_ entailed them finishing their music and then exiting, only to be _'riled back'_ onto the stage by their audience to do an encore. It was textbook. As the boys stepped off the stage, Toki shuffled up to Murderface and grinned, nudging his shoulder. The bassist immediately catapulted their plan into action, shuffling over to Skwisgaar, standing in his way. 

 

"Euhh, good job with the scholo out there ahh big guy-' The sound of thousands upon thousands of people did a wonderful job with creating a perfect environment for the duo to carry out their plan, it was dim back-stage as well- where Dethklok literally only had a second to drink water and then jump back on stage. While William stood in front of Skwisgaar, Toki snuck behind the lead guitarist and didn't waste a second, carefully reaching out to twist the tuners on the headstock of Skwisgaar's guitar, completely fucking it up. 

 

“Williams, whats, I can'ts hears y-" Skwisgaar started, but William stuck a hand out interrupting him with a laugh.

 

"You shcoulda never called me fat!" William shouted, _still unheard._ William picked up on running after a wildly grinning Toki as they made their way back on stage.

 

"Gods." Skwisgaar's voice was deep and exasperated with annoyance. "Dildos."

 

When the band was ready and they all stood in their places Nathan gave the whole speel, telling them they were brutal and promising them one another song. The lights on stage dimmed and everyone grew silent. 

 

Toki's guitar came in quietly, the pitter patter of the accompaniment first and then Skwisgaars-

 

_Plunk._

 

The deep shitty sound of Skwisgaar's tune-less guitar chord echoed through the audience hushing them immediately, Pickles stopped drumming and Nathan pulled the mic away from his face, eyes narrowing as he looked over to Skwisgaar.

 

Skwisgaar suddenly felt breathless.

 

Laughs and curses all made their way to the stage as Skwisgaar quickly tried redeeming the sound of his guitar, but he couldn't breathe. This never happened. Skwisgaar always checked his guitar, he tuned the strings and checked the tuning until his fingers bled. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t happening. 

 

_Can’t breathe._

 

The audience was crippling and Skwisgaar couldn't think straight, he couldn't move, he just wanted out of there. Without a word to his name, Skwisgaar staggered off the stage. The audience members had already begun gasping and talking.

 

Toki and Murderface grinned from their spots, high-fiving each other for their successful prank.

 

Nathan sighed, picking up on the issue, Skwisgaar was done, the show was basically over anyway.

 

"Hah, fuck you all everybody it's been great- but we're having some, uhh- tech-nibal- technifical difficulties." Nathan muttered into the mic, and the fans screamed back- women were already wresting for who got to get closer to the stage, as though Nathan would reach down to them.

 

"Uhh-" Nathan grumbled. "See ya." And then he stepped backwards and left the stage to join his band-mates.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Silent.

 

They're all standing silent in the personal meeting room which the venue had provided for the band. Even Toki and Murderface who had carefully planned out each and every laugh they were to share in their triumph over their band-made were silent. They had come running off of the stage in a fury, ready to profess their prank and all of Skwisgaar’s wrong doings when they caught sight of the paled face belonging to their victim. 

 

Skwisgaar doesn’t excuse himself. That long arm merely extends apologetically; palm facing outwards for just a breath keeping his pick held between the cracks of his fingers, his fingers are trembling like mad. Nathan watches without really watching, his own involuntary habit or perhaps a complex formed over the years. Briefly, the lead glanced over once more when he saw Skwisgaar move to hand his guitar with one fist clenched over the neck to Pickles to deal with as opposed to Skwisgaar's usual choice of the Rhythm guitarist before exiting the room, strangely calm. 

 

That was that- gone. Simple.

 

Nathan's eyes lingered on the door the man had just walked through, immediately narrowing his eyes.

 

Skwisgaar had professed to be fine, but nobody bought it. The tension in the air was thick and everyone could feel it.

 

 Now, these small breaks in continuum or rather a guitar out of tune during a technically optional encore, or choosing for Pickles to hold his guitar as opposed to a norm -Toki- was in theory nothing to think of. Such dildo mundane and easily over-looked behavior was nothing to bat an eye-lash over to one who did not know the inner-workings of Skwisgaar's tightly wound mind. It happened, his guitar had been fucked up- it only meant that they didn't need to play an encore, which was actually a blessing. 

 

Nathan, however immediately felt a strange sort of dread in his gut. 

 

Working with someone for years would reasonably lead a person to understand certain quirks, in any working environment this was to be expected---- But, sweating, bleeding, screaming, boozing, fighting, saving, observing, learning, living, breathing _livingbreathinglivingbreathinglivingbreathing_ with a person for so long that the years jumbled together in a timeless mix, cracks in time sewn together with drugs, women and liquor… Yeah, that would bring a person of any nature to understand the rawest workings of a person, No. Fucking. Matter. What. 

 

Nathan knew that Skwisgaar liked routine-

 

_-no no nononono-_

 

That asshole didn't just _like_ routine he was absolutely functionless without it. Skwisgaar had coffee every afternoon before he began to practice (though to them- the morning) at two, on the fucking dot, sitting in the same chair. Skwisgaar practiced in the same intervals every day never never never breaking habit, and if something came up and fucked his routine, Skwisgaar was rendered unable to cope, he would sit in silence plucking and strumming and breathing into the strings of his guitar with widened eyes- as though his mind were frozen. Nathan wasn't delicate enough to understand ( nor did he care to ) the deep-rooted psychosis behind the obsessive behavior of his band-mate, but Nathan could differentiate between healthy actions and non-healthy ones. 

 

Nathan kept heavy tabs on his band-mates, wether he chose to act on anything or not when he noticed what was awry. 

 

Piecing it together, Nathan finally looked to Toki. Toki's arms were crossed over his chest as he sat gazing side-ways, that young face of his looked tortured- but he was clearly ignoring Skwisgaar's absence. 

 

_‘Ok, so they’re fighting.’_

 

The Scandinavian members had a relationship that nobody could truly comprehend, though Nathan was certain not even the Scandinavians themselves could figure themselves out. Their relationship had caused a few raised eye-brows and even low mutterings of gossip and other sorts in the beginning, but as time dragged on they began to care less and less. The duo had grown closer in the recent years- or at least more visibly so. Honestly it hadn't changed much about the band, there were some things they simply never _talked about_ and wether or not the two were fucking was one of those things.

 

One thing however about the two’s questionably established relationship was the fact that It always became obvious when something was wrong with them, because what Skwisgaar lacked to show emotionally- Toki surely projected like the most open book alive. 

 

"Toki." Nathan finally broke the silence- free of his own musings. Nathan's voice mimicked the stern-ness of a parent, and Toki seemed to think so as well. The brunette was at immediate attention by whipping his head to Nathan so fast it made Nathan blink. 

 

After a few moments of Nathan sizing Toki up- he finally dared to utter the words. "Fix it."

 

Plain and simple- and yet it was all he wanted to say, all he needed to say. Fix it. Fix your relationship, or your friendship or your intimate life whatever. Fix it. 

 

Toki groaned, having none of it. "But, Nathans Skwisgaar-" 

 

"Toki." Pickles interjected this time. The drummer had seemed to piece enough together, especially about the situation- and he was always one to talk some sense into Toki when a serious word needed to be said when guidance needed to be enforced. "Literally, it doesn't matter what happened. It really doesn't matter _, just fix it._ "

 

_Fix it._

 

* * *

 

 

**(( Alright pals, warning here for content ahead--- this is the angsty bit, Skwisgaar has a bit of a break-down. Mentions of OCD tendencies as well as triggering content to those with emetophobia. ))**

 

 

_In earlier days it had been all about these moments._

 

How did he get here? Skwisgaar stumbled down the hallway, sweat so cold on his brow that his teeth chattered and shook his frame.

 

Bathroom.

 

Bathroom. Bathroom, God he had to find the bathroom.

 

It had been years since he'd experience such an intense form of panic. 

 

 _These moments,_ those that entailed purple and blue knees bruising upon bathroom tiles, this had once been a sacred entity in his mind. Moments where Skwisgaar's torture brought fourth skin that paled enough to look frightful in the yellow dimming light above, those moments. For, once upon a time they had come far too often, _those fucking moments_. Before Dethklok had become so successful, Skwisgaar had spent many evenings in this bathroom, wether it be to catch his breath when the harmful thoughts came far too suddenly and crippled him or to vomit when the thoughts sickened or to scream into the toilet water when the thoughts took over and flipped the switches in his brain that made the world go black. 

 

Becoming famous, growing and establishing himself with Dethklok, and--- Toki--- had tamed the bad thoughts, and tucked them away into something manageable for what Skwisgaar had hoped to be forever. 

 

"Oh fucks, Oh fucks oh fucks." Three times. 

 

Three was the magic number.

 

Skwisgaar's hands were shaking, short labored breaths made his lips open and close like a tortured creature of the sea- yearning for the waters to ease his pain. Suddenly, Skwisgaar's grunts lowered an octave as his stomach muscles clenched and the thoughts continued to attack his mind. The wrenching and twitching of his stomach muscles sent him into a pre-matured exhaustion, the only thing Skwisgaar could do was press his forehead to the toilet bowl, noe his eyes were parallel to the ground. _This wasn't right._

 

Hah it was almost laughable at how these places were all so similar, even in his memories he couldn't place where certain breakdowns had occurred because the bathrooms were all a giant mix in his fevered brain. 

 

Always the same color schemes too, white, blue and yellow tiles. What a parallel those colors were to the current state of Skwisgaar's bruised knees. What a parallel indeed. 

 

_White, Blue Yellow._

 

Like such colors equal the primary choice for shit-hole joint. 

 

White.

Blue.

Yellow.

 

Skwisgaar closed his eyes and remembered the glory days; chapped lips, yellow and green skin that was so sweaty his hair stuck to the back of his neck. Skwisgaar’s stomach ached for what could not please it in this world and he immediately feared that this attack wouldn't dull away. 

 

"Whites, Blue, Yellows." Skwisgaar's mind is racing and his mantra isn't calming the nerves like it usually does. The way his skin had prickled hot when his guitar had released the dirty plethora of random unappealing notes. Skwisgaar always had the right tunings. Always. Skwisgaar was the most talented guitarist in the world, he'd checked his guitar a thousand times- how could this have happened? 

 

White. 

Blue. 

Yellow. 

 

Drop C tuning. 

 

C.

G.

C.

F.

A.

D.

 

He had checked. 

Checked

Checked.

 

White. Blue. Yellow. White. Blue. Yellow. White. Blue. Yellow. White Blue Yellow WhiteBlueYellowWhiteBlueYellowWHhiteblueyellowwhitewhitewhitewhitewhite.

 

Skwisgaar dry heaved again- his stomach has already emptied but it doesn't stop the panic from forcing the reflex out his body. Skwisgaar momentarily dreams of calling for help as he lifts his head back up, something he'd never do except at the moment the concept of death was so real.

 

“Whites, blue, yellows.” Are the only words that escape when he tries to call for help.

 

Now he's beyond frightened, his detoxification has turned into an endless loop and suddenly Skwisgaar thinks he might die and all he wants is Toki.

 

Toki.

Toki.

Toki.

 

**(( END OF TRIGGER/ANGST-ISH BIT ))**

 

After a half hour of grumbling whilst Toki half-hearted searched for Skwisgaar, wandering through the unfamiliar venue space, calling Skwisgaar's phone and checking inside of the jet- Toki found himself standing in front of the door to the bathroom. Slightly sobered to what he’d found.

 

Skwisgaar was in there. 

 

Toki _could hear_ the labored breathing on the other side of the door, the low sounds of absolute suffering rang out and met Toki's ears echoing off of the walls in unhealthy pitches. Toki could hear him, Skwisgaar was in there and there was something terribly terribly wrong, and it was Toki that had put him there.

 

It was now that Toki realized his little prank had triggered something within Skwisgaar, within the man who Toki had always viewed to be strong and unscathed. Suddenly, Toki felt fear and guilt raise inside of him, balling into a lump that rested in his throat, refusing to be swallowed away.

 

Toki took a few moment, breathing in and out- collecting his bravery, collecting his ability to do something, _do anything._  

 

“Skwisgaar needs yous.” Toki whispered to himself.

 

When enough time had passed Toki didn't bother with asking for invitation into the bathroom. Trying to keep a strong face on, Toki pushed open the door and immediately his eyes fell upon the figure of the Swede. Skwisgaar was in the stall on the far left, but he was on his knees, the underside of his boots poked out from underneath the stall. Toki could hear pained whisperings, and breathing from his end that was so fast it reminded Toki of his own panic-attacks.

 

For a moment the strange behavior frightened him.

 

Toki was not prepared to deal with stuff like this, but concern for _his Skwisgaar_ pressed him on.

 

"Skwisgaar." Toki tried to sound brave, murmuring softly while his boots scuffed against the floor as he neared the stall.

 

The mutterings on Skwisgaar's end didn't stop, not even to answer Toki.

 

"Ams comings in now Skwisgaar, ok?-" Toki warned the other, pushing against the door. It didn't budge obviously the stall had been latched shut. Toki groaned "Skwisgaar-" he knocked on the door again.

 

Nothing.

 

"Alrights. Ams gonna crawls underneaths!" Toki announced. Toki entered the stall directly next to Skwisgaar's, and then he laid down on his stomach, using his elbows to slowly worm his way into Skwisgaar's stall.

 

Toki stood up, shaking slightly as he watched his band-mate with a scrunched brow.

 

Skwisgaar looked weak, tired and ill- his forehead was pressed to the edge of the toilet bowl and Toki knew that any scenario that required Skwisgaar to do that was a desperate one. Toki inhaled sharply, he was literally clueless--- his social retardation and own brokenness was an enormous mental handicap one that made Toki lack any skills that would have helped him to help Skwisgaar. Toki was frightened, he was confused and he was extremely guilty.

 

“You ams ins your punishments hole Skwisgaar-“ Toki whispered, heart aching in his chest for what he’d realized.

 

Toki closed his eyes and inhaled, awkwardly standing over Skwisgaar- hands tucked together. 

 

 _Think think think._ Toki urged himself, what did he do? What would he want Skwisgaar to do for him if it were Toki panicked? Toki thought back to all those times when he’d crawled into Skwisgaar’s bed after a nightmare, all the times he felt Skwisgaar’s hand on his back. 

 

Tenderly, Toki got down on his knees as well and placed an awkward hand on Skwisgaar's back. "Ah ok- theres there." Toki murmured. 

 

When his efforts still didn't produce anything, Toki tried moving his hand up and down on Skwisgaar's back. "Boys Skwisgaar, you ams shakings." Toki felt fear upon noticing the other's erratic breathing continue on. "Skwisgaar, you needs to breathes slower- breathes in. Breathes out. Breathes in. Breathes out." 

 

Skwisgaar gave a low grunt, it wasn't much but it was encouraging to Toki- at least Skwisgaar was responsive.

 

Toki continued to run his hand up and down the other's back in a rhythmic awkward fashion, he noticed that the other's hair was in his face and whenever Skwisgaar had dealt with Toki's drunk endeavors in the past-- Toki had always appreciated it when Skwisgaar moved his hair for him. So, the youngest leaned forward tenderly and wrapped his hands around the other's hair- cupping it up and pulling it out of the way over Skwisgaar’s left shoulder.

 

“I’ms heres Skwisgaar.” Toki said.

This made Skwisgaar inhale sharply, and this time Skwisgaar moved his body side-ways, he still looked down to the floor as he pressed his forehead to Toki's stomach. Skwisgaar’s knees were on the floor and his back was raised slightly as he buried his face into Toki, he coughed once he’d begun to catch his breath, wrapping a tight fist around tufts of the other's shirt. 

 

Toki's mouth fell open but no words escaped, carefully he shifted his legs around to deal with Skwisgaar and continued rubbing the other's back. Seeing Skwisgaar so shaken made Toki's heart thud and his teeth clench, the guilt rose up so quickly that he knew he needed to tell Skwisgaar what he'd done.

 

"Ams sorries Skwisgaar, I was de ones who messed withs your guitars.” Toki blurted out suddenly, heart pounding as he stopped rubbing Skwisgaar's back. "I just gots so mads at you cause yous always treats mes like I'ms nots importants! I just wanteds to gets yous back, I didn'ts thinks it would-"

 

"Don't stops-" Skwisgaar interrupted."Its helpings." It was the first audible thing Toki had heard from Skwisgaar and it made his heart tremble in his chest Toki's eye brows rose and he quickly began moving his hand up and down the other's back again. 

 

"Ams sorries-" Toki whispered softly

 

"Me toos." Skwisgaar murmured, removing himself from Toki's lap so he could look him straight in the eye. "You ams importants. You just amnst readies, but when you ams yous can play." In truth Skwisgaar looked like shit, he seemed exhausted and his eyes were red and blood-shot, his skin was pale and sweaty and Toki doubted the other's ability to stand. Nonetheless Skwisgaar's breathing had slowed down tremendously and Toki hoped they were out of the danger-zone. 

 

Toki's bottom lip trembled and he nodded feverishly, all he felt he could do now was lean down and plant a soft almost child-like kiss on Skwisgaar's cheek. It just seemed like the right comforting sort of thing to do. 

 

Skwisgaar closed his eyes and 'hmm'ed, now leaning back so he could press his back to the stall and stretch his legs out onto Toki's lap.

 

After a long time passed and Skwisgaar finally felt like he could move, Toki helped Skwisgaar to his feet, beaming with relief. Toki helped Skwisgaar hobble to the jet without the help of their fellow band-mates. It had been Skwisgaar's wish to not allow the other band-mates to see him in such a state.

 

When everyone had returned home safe and sound none of them brought it up, nobody needed to ask the two about it, and that was just the way Skwisgaar liked it. Toki never brought it up- even William refrained from lashing out or laughing at Skwisgaar, secretly tucking away his own grudge for the evening. 

 

“Toki.” Pickles began quietly once they had begun their trip home. 

 

“Ja, Pickle?’

 

“You really ghatta stop kicking my door in the mornings.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
